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Captain Bear listened closely as Atlas finished his report — every detail about the alien retreat, the captured leader, and the survivors rescued. When Atlas finally paused, Bear let out a low whistle, folding his massive arms across his chest.
"Gotta say, Doc," Bear said, smirking. "You've outdone yourself this time. Didn't think you had that much fight in you."
Atlas arched a brow and struck a mock heroic pose, hands on hips, chest out. "Don't underestimate me, Captain. While you all were out playing spy games behind enemy lines, some of us stayed home and worked out."
The squad burst into laughter. Even Bear cracked a grin.
"Oh yeah?" he teased. "So you traded your stethoscope for dumbbells?"
Atlas grinned. "Exactly. I had to make sure I could lift you next time you go down."
That got another round of laughter, but Amelie's amused voice cut through it.
She tilted her head, eyes scanning him from head to toe. "He's not kidding, Captain. He's… different."
Atlas nervously blinked. "Different how?"
She walked closer, stopping just short of him, a playful smirk on her lips. "You've definitely gained muscle. And… height." She poked his bicep with a finger. "When you first joined us, you looked like some sickly noble's son pretending to be a doctor. Now?" She gave a small nod. "Now you actually look like a man."
Atlas froze mid-grin, his face flushing red as the others erupted into roaring laughter.
Flynn bent over, wheezing. "Ha! She called you a sick prince!"
Judson wiped tears from his eyes. "Man, she's not wrong. I remember you tripping over your med bag the first week."
Xavier chuckled, "Or that time you almost fainted when you saw Bear's arm wound."
Atlas groaned, rubbing his forehead. "I saved this team's life a dozen times, and this is what you remember."
Amelie chuckled softly, not the least bit apologetic. "It's called balance, Doctor."
Bear grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, alright, leave him be. Poor guy's blushing harder than my coffee mug."
Atlas exhaled dramatically, waving a hand. "Laugh all you want. I'm still the one who patches you up afterward."
That only made them laugh harder.
When the noise finally died down, Bear's eyes caught the gleam of gold beside Atlas's arm. "Speaking of patching up… what's that fancy toy you're holding? Don't tell me you stole it from an alien museum."
Atlas followed his gaze and smiled faintly. "This?" He tapped the shield's edge. "Nah. Made it myself."
Bear's eyebrows rose. "You made that? Out here?"
Atlas shrugged, spinning a half-truth and half-false with practiced ease. "We had leftover alien scrap metal from a crash site. I asked the commander for permission — limited supply and all that. Figured, why not make a shield? Captain America had the right idea."
Bear blinked, then let out a belly laugh. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
Atlas handed him the shield. "Here. Try it."
Bear took it in his massive hands, testing its weight. "Feels lighter than it looks." He gave it a few experimental swings, grunting approvingly. "Not bad. Solid balance."
He passed it to Flynn, who immediately posed like a superhero. "What do you think, boys? Captain Flynn, protector of Sector Four!"
Judson snorted. "Yeah, real intimidating — the enemy'll die laughing."
Amelie rolled her eyes, taking the shield next. "You boys are hopeless." She tapped the surface with her knuckles, hearing the metallic ring. "Feels reinforced. Definitely not standard issue."
She handed it back to Atlas. "You've been busy, Doc."
Atlas smiled faintly, though he didn't elaborate. "I had to keep my hands occupied."
"Occupied, he says," Xavier muttered. "Probably forged that thing while humming war songs."
Atlas just grinned. "You're not far off."
The squad shared another laugh before Bear gestured toward the main door. "Alright, fun's over. Let's check outside, see what's left of our base before command sends some brass to chew us out."
They moved together toward the exit. As they stepped past the metallic threshold, Atlas suddenly froze — his gaze snapping to the alien leader he'd knocked out earlier. The creature lay motionless, but its limbs weren't restrained.
"Wait," Atlas muttered. "He's not tied up."
Bear swore under his breath. "Good catch."
They quickly secured the alien with heavy restraints. Flynn muttered as he tied the knots, "You sure this thing's not gonna wake up and eat my face?"
"Only if you smell like bacon," Atlas said dryly.
"Great," Flynn replied. "Now I'm hungry and paranoid."
The others chuckled as they continued forward. When they reached the outer gates, the full extent of the carnage came into view.
Corpses — both human and alien — littered the ground near the door. Smoke rose from burning wrecks, and the once-sturdy walls of Sector Four were scorched black. The squad fell silent for a moment, the weight of it settling in.
Judson let out a low whistle. "Hell of a welcome party you threw, Doc."
Atlas exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah… bit messy, I know."
Flynn grinned. "Messy? Doc, you turned the place into a Jackson Pollock painting — in blue and red."
Amelie shot him a glare. "Hey!, Show some respect, Goodman."
Flynn raised his hands. "Hey, I meant it as a compliment!"
Bear just chuckled and shook his head. "Still, damn impressive. Remind me never to piss you off, Doc."
Atlas gave a small, self-deprecating smile. "Noted."
After assessing the damage, Atlas excused himself. "There are still wounded out there. I'll get back to the tents."
Bear nodded, clapping his shoulder. "Do what you do best, Doc. We'll secure the area."
Atlas returned to the medical zone. The moment he stepped inside, the familiar chaos of moans, shouting, and antiseptic filled his senses. It almost felt… comforting.
He exhaled deeply, rolling his sleeves. "Feels like home," he murmured, picking up his instruments and moving to the nearest wounded soldier.
Outside, Bear's voice echoed commands as the rest of the squad swept the perimeter of Sector Four, eliminating stragglers and aiding the wounded they found along the way.
By late afternoon, the rumble of helicopter rotors filled the air. Reinforcements — finally. Dust and wind whipped through the camp as two medevac birds landed hard in the clearing.
Bear squinted up at them, his beard flapping in the downdraft. "About damn time!" he grumbled. "They move slower than before."
Atlas, stitching a wound beside him, didn't even look up. "Come on, Cap. Give them some credit. Sector Four's halfway to nowhere. They probably had to dodge half a dozen alien patrols just to find us."
Bear sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Still, they could've brought beer."
Atlas chuckled quietly, tying off a suture. "If they did, I'd be first in line."
As the helicopters unloaded medical teams and supplies, the battered squad watched in silence. Relief, exhaustion, and disbelief mingled in their expressions.
Captain Bear exhaled deeply. "After this, command better give us some downtime. A week, at least."
"Hell," Judson muttered, "I'll take a day and a hot shower."
Flynn grinned. "And beer. Lots of beer."
Amelie gave a tired smile. "You boys and your alcohol…"
Atlas finished wrapping a bandage, glancing up with a faint smile. "You can't fix the mind with bandages, Amelie. Sometimes a drink does what medicine can't."
Bear nodded, his tone softening. "Yeah. We're soldiers, not machines. Our bodies can take the hits… but the mind?" He shook his head slowly. "That's the part that breaks hardest."
Atlas met his gaze and quietly replied, "Then we make sure none of us break alone."
For a long moment, no one spoke. Only the wind, the hum of rotors, and the distant cries of the living filled the ruins of Sector Four.
END
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